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Heartfelt Series No. 3: Something to Remember

I’ve never had someone look at me like the way she did. It’s as if she drew her very strength and every breath from me. It felt awkward, seemed awkward. Yet, I liked it.

I never had the strength to look at her; never had the guts to meet her eyes. And every time I did, I found it hard to look away. It was as if she was trying to read the very depths of my soul. It was disturbing yet inviting. I wanted to give in. I wanted to.

Then I received a note.

It was plain and simple. Like the notes in the movies, the ones you get before you get killed. I was hesitant to open it at first, but I opened it anyway.

Hi! [It read]

How about sparing some time with me?

AR. Room 315

Right then and there, I knew it was from her. I crumpled it. Determined to ignore it and pretend that it never existed. That she never existed.

I found my feet leading me to that room. The door was ajar, yet the room was dark. I peeped in, and there I saw her standing by the moonlit window; her eyes were looking outside, but her mind was afar. It was in her eyes.

“Come in,” she said, almost a whisper, yet it echoed across the room. I planned on slamming the door and leaving at once, yet I did the exact opposite of what I intended to do. It seemed she had a way of making me feel and do the exact same opposite of what I thought I would feel and do.

“Thanks for coming.” She smiled, her eyes still looking somewhere—but they looked warmer now.

What do you want from me? “Yeah, no problem.” I said. I heard a faint laugh and saw her eyes roll to my side, as if she could see further beyond her peripheral vision.

Then, like a ghost that moves and floats fluidly, she turned around to face me, her dress swayed gracefully with her movement. She was still smiling.

“I want you to have my heart,” she said.

I heard it clearly, “What?”

She laughed again. I realized it was contagious. I did not laugh.

She stepped forward. Or danced maybe. She looked so graceful, it was hard to determine. It was like her every movement was a well-rehearsed ballet step.

“I said, I want you to have my heart.”

“W-why?” I hesitated, “and why m-me?”

“Because you owned it even though I never owned yours,” she said, still smiling.

“W-what would I do with it?” I asked. I felt stupid for asking, but she didn’t seem to mind. It was like nothing really mattered at all.

She frowned. “Hmm.. that’s a good one.” Then, she smiled. “I don’t know,” she shrugged, “What do you think?”

“I don’t know either.”

“Where on earth is my stress ball?!” A distant, thundering voice echoed in the entire building.

We both laughed.

“That’s a good one,” she said, still giggling.

“Yeah,” I replied, smiling.

She stretched her right arm and handed me the scalpel. I took it.

“By the way,” she said, “ You look good in black.”

She stepped backwards and was about to lie down when—

“Wait,” I said, stopping her. She looked at me. She seemed surprised. She obviously didn’t anticipate what would happen next.

I might have been struggling with myself on what I was doing, but I was certain that what I did was done by my sane, conscious self. And she knew that, that was why she looked surprised.

I moved towards her, grabbed her waist with my left hand and held her face with my right hand. Then, my lips—without a warning—kissed hers. I kissed her. I have never kissed a person before. My first.

And it was a long kiss.

Then, without a warning, I pulled back my lips and inserted a pill in her mouth—which she gladly accepted. She even looked at me with her mystic eyes, and she smiled. She seemed so beautiful with those eyes and the way she smiled. I smiled back and sealed everything with a kiss.

I felt her warm breath in my mouth. Then, I laid her on the floor and stained the scalpel she handed me.